Much Ado About Everything: The Seventh Year
by ArlingtonSaxon
Summary: It's Harry, Ron and Hermione's Seventh year at Hogwarts and things are definitely not going to plan so far! Join us as we explore the mischief, Quidditch and love that happens in the last installment of their academic careers.
1. The Party Foul

_A/N: Right, so, welcome to my new Harry Potter story! You're probably going to notice right off the bat that the events in this story are contrary to canon. Harry, Ron and Hermione are all still and Hogwarts and are attending their Seventh year. Yes, you guessed it, this story ignores canon! The reason for this is because this is a unique story: It has no drama whatsoever, aside from the silly. It's essentially about the Trio's Seventh year at Hogwarts without the looming threat of Voldemort. Although you won't see much of him in the next few chapters or this one, Dumbledore is also still alive. Severus Snape is just as much a foul git than ever and Drace Malfoy is still are loveable, hated villain that would would never have as anything but. _

_So, sit right back, relax and I do hope you enjoy this author's humble attempt into the foray of romantic comedy. It's my first dip into the field. So, without further ado, I present to you, the scene! Enjoy!_

Chapter 1

The Party Foul

Hermione's legs were still aching as she stumbled into the Great Hall that morning – an action very uncharacteristic of herself, to be sure – and plopped down heavily next to Harry and across from Ron at the Gryffindor table, with an audible, _'Huff!'_

'Galleon for your thoughts?' It was Harry who addressed her first. The tall, lean, scruffy-haired Boy Who Lived was staring at her, an amused smirk lighting up his deep emerald eyes over his morning bowl of porridge.

Hermione gave him a sidelong glare as her only response to his remark. She grumpily procured herself a piece of toast from the rack in front of her, expecting her withering look to be the endpoint of that rather snarky comment. It wasn't as if she were angry at Harry – no, irritated would be more appropriate given the situation. After everything they had been through that whole bloody evening, and Harry had the audacity to look _so bloody cheerful_!

'**He looks a bit too well for my taste,'** she thought grumpily. **'And he has no right to look so content either, the git!' **

She took a small bite of toast, then reached reflexively for the Daily Prophet, which was her constant companion at the breakfast table, and when her hand was greeted with nothing but pure, cold, mahogany table in a flash she felt as if the rug had not just been pulled out from under her, but the very floor on which it had been tugged had just crumbled beneath her feet. At that moment, Harry bore witness to one of the most frightening events in history: Hermione Granger was officially _pissed off_.

She was aware that the annoying, amused light hadn't faded from his eyes yet and they were still trained almost expectantly on her, but she chose not to level her annoyance on him. Rather, when the _Daily Prophet_, which should have been to the left of her, was not to be found, her eyes immediately snapped up and focused on none other than Ronald Weasley. Not only was he _nonchalantly_ reading _her_ morning edition of the Prophet - whilst simultaneously devouring enough grease to finely lubricate the gears of a Muggle engine – but she could also make out a few smears of jam here and there on the page facing her. _The audacity!_ Just one thought came to mind…

'_Ronald!' _

A few people around them looked startled, including Ron who tore his eyes away from the sports headlines and to Hermione. Were she not suffering probably the most severe case of the Mondays known to Wizarding kind, Hermione might have found his expression rather adorable and compared it to a confused puppy, wondering what it had done wrong and if it was going to be punished.

'Umm… Morning?' The redheaded boy offered, clearly not sure what was going on with the girl in front of him. He glanced at Harry, who was no longer looking to smug but, rather, cautious of the impending explosion. At Ron's questioning expression, he gestured subtly at the Prophet that was in his hand at the moment and went back to his porridge.

Ron, as if he had been stuck by a giant epiphany, looked at the paper, then at Hermione. 'Oh! Sorry, 'Mione. Was just checking the fixtures is all. Here's your paper back,' he supplied weakly. He moved to hand it over to her but the bushy-haired girl made no move to receive it. 'Uh – don't you want to read it?'

Hermione sat across from him in stony silence, her lips pursed so tightly in an expression that reminded him so much of McGonagall it was terrifying. Of course, not being very graceful at handling some of Hermione's more severe moods (this one, for example) Ron, unsure of what to do, shifted uncomfortably on the bench, unnerved by the arctic, vulture-like stare that was currently trained on him. And in his confusion, his typically male mind went to work at figuring out what to do…

'**Ok, think. You didn't do anything and Hermione is a girl. Girls are emotional and like to let everyone know. Hermione is a girl. Girls talk a lot…' **And now being sure that he had contrived a brilliant solution to the current predicament, Ron courageously vocalized this brilliant solution to Hermione, whose facial expression hadn't budged at all in the past minute or so.

'Do you want to talk?'

*SLAP*

The whole Great Hall seemed to go silent as the sound of Hermione's hand bestowing a mighty fine slap on Ron's face echoed loudly. Everyone turned their attention away from what they were doing to watch the quarrelling seventh years curiously.

'What did she do that for?' A first year a few people down from them whispered confusedly to an upperclassman next to him. It was none other than Dean Thomas.

'Ron's about to get his arse handed to him,' the Gryffindor sagely whispered back.

Ron merely sat there, dumbfounded and stunned, having yet to even register the hand-sized slap mark on his face. He gaped at Hermione, stunned. The bushy-haired Gryffindor, on the other hand, got up from her seat and stormed out of the Great Hall.

A discreet cough pulled he and Harry out of their startled reverie and they looked up to see the stern, expecting gaze of Professor McGonagall. Appearently Hermione's none-too-discrete scene had attracted the attention of the Professors' table as well.

'Would one of you like to explain what has gotten in to Miss Granger?'

It was Harry who spoke.

'Honestly, Professor McGonagall, we didn't do anything.' The Boy Who Lived answered meekly.

McGonagall didn't look at all satisfied by that answer. She shot both boys her most penetrating, skeptical look. 'Are you sure that is all, Mr. Potter?'

When Harry merely shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the Head's presence, she ventured on to Ron, who had been looking intently at the discarded Prophet on the table, trying desperately to avoid her notice.

'Mr. Weasley, perhaps you would like to try your hand at explaining that little episode, since Mr. Potter here has found himself incapable of doing so?'

Ron, too, shrugged. 'I really don't know, Professor. I was just reading the sports and Hermione clobbered me!'

McGonagall, still not convinced, apparently decided to give up and walk back to the Head's table. 'Very well, Mr. Weasley, but please make sure that such a scene doesn't take place again the future. The last thing Gryffindor House needs is your dirty laundry being aired in public.'

She then left them, leaving a distraught Ron and a very uncomfortable Harry. The young, raven-haired Gryffindor re-emerged from his porridge, looking less flustered and more concerned.

'So what d'ya think that was all about?' Harry asked, pulling Ron out of his silent musings.

'I honestly haven't a clue! Absolutely, bloody mental - that's what that girl is!' The redhead nearly shouted.

Harry merely nodded, although he wasn't as convinced of Hermione's apparent lunacy as Ron. His brows knit together, he thought back to the previous day in an attempt to figure out what was the matter with Hermione… and suddenly it hit him. The party! He remembered now.

_Gryffindor had won their season opener against Ravenclaw and everyone headed to the Common Room to celebrate (minus the "midget" first, second and third years, as Ron called them, who had been banished to their dorms by the redhead in question). Stealing off quickly to Hogsmeade via the secret tunnel with the invisibility cloak, Harry and Ron had brought back cases of Butterbeer and various sweets from Honey Dukes until their arms were full and they became almost too heavy to levitate with magic. But the party wasn't in full swing until Seamus and Dean each produced two bottles of Fire Whisky. _

_Having downed his third shot and two bottles of Butterbeer, Harry was currently sidelined on the sofa for the evening and, for lack of a better word, quite pissed. His nearly empty Butterbeer bottle still clutched firmly in his hand, something must have been absolutely hilarious because, for the life of him, he could __**not **__stop laughing. _

_Ron, the source of his merriment, was leaning against the sofa below him with a very severe looking Hermione looming over both of them, staring at them with a menace and disapproval in her eyes that could rival Lupin on the full moon. _

_It vaguely occurred to Harry's foggy, inebriated brain that they might have been a tad too loud. He wasn't far from the mark. The Wireless was bumping the latest hits at nearly full blast while Dean, Seamus, Cormac McLaggen and Andrew Kirke – pissed as well – were attempting to impress a giggling brood of sixth year girls by seeing who could take the most shots before passing out. _

_Between the music and Seamus's incessant shouts of, 'I'm the bloody Shot King!' and just about everyone cheering them on as loudly as they possibly could, it was a wonder they could hear the thundering mad Head Girl currently towering over them with disdain. _

'_I can't believe you two!' Hermione hissed angrily. 'You know alcoholic beverages aren't allowed in the Castle or on the grounds and now look at you two! Just wait until McGonagall hears about this!' _

_Had Harry been sober enough, he might have had the good sense to "see" Hermione's point and go along with her, taking a cautionary step backward for good measure. However, this was not sober Harry; this was drunk Harry! And drunk Harry found the way Hermione's lips twisted in a disgusted sneer and the way her nostril's flared when she was cross to be so – so SNAPELY, that he couldn't help but laugh right in the face of her scorning. _

_Ron was the only one of the two boys that had it in him to stand up to Hermione's tirade. The readhead, two butterbeers in hand – one half-full and the other unopened – stumbled to his feet and attempted to put it in Hermione's hand. _

'_C'mmon 'Mione,' he slurred, 'it's a party! Lighten up!' _

'_Yea, 'Mione! Don't you worry 'bout Professor Minnie! She isn't going to know!' Harry, playing off of Ron jumped in as well, gesturing wildly about him with his Butterbeer. The drink, he failed to notice, ended up spilling all over the sofa and consequently on his jeans. _

_Hermione's glare intensified twenty-fold by the mere fact that they even dared to stand up to her when she was cross and obviously right. She wrenched the drink out of Harry's hand and vanished it with her wand. The Boy-Who-Was-Too-Soused-To-Stand couldn't protest much, other than by making a very childish whinging sound, and merely fell over sideways into the armrest of the sofa he was sprawled out on. _

'_I think what you two are probably the most irresponsible boys on the planet! Harry, we have an exam in potions tomorrow and you, Ronald, still haven't done either of the two essays Professor Lupin wants in DADA tomorrow!'_

_At the very mention of homework, the music coming from the Wireless was silenced and everyone stopped dead in what they were doing to focus on the seething Hermione with interest. Ron, noticing that the festivities had come to an abrupt halt, immediately went from jolly to defensive. _

'_Well done, Hermione! You really do know how to wreck everyone's fun, don't you? Do you really think it's fun to be a twenty-four seven killjoy or sumthin'?'_

_Just then, Seamus – who had been listening – decided to jump on the table and shout, loudly, 'Oi! Weasley's right! Granger's a buzz-kill!' _

_And then, suddenly, everyone in Gryffindor tower seemed to be in agreement as they all began to shout in unison, 'Granger's a buzz-kill! Granger's a buzz-kill!' _

_The whole common room was against her. Seeing that using her authority as Head Girl to give everyone in the room a detention would be social suicide to the max and make her a plague for the rest of the year, Hermione, not fancying to sort of rep for a final year at Hogwarts, decided instead to stomp furiously back up the stairs to her empty dorm._

_The next morning, when Harry woke up, sprawled on the sofa with his housemates lying about on the floor throughout the Common Room, his foggy mind didn't remember what had happened the night before… _

'Hey, Ron. Remember the party last night and how you and Hermione got in that big fight?' He asked Ron. His friend, while he had been briefly racking his brain, had began tucking in to a bowl of porridge and toast when Harry asked him.

'Yea, I remember.' Ron smirked at the memory of Hermione getting wranked on by the whole Common Room. _It had been a glorious victory for him, he though. _His eyes suddenly went wide as he grasped what Harry was getting at. 'Blimey! You don't think that's why she slapped me, do you?'

Harry shook his head. 'Yes, Ron. That's exactly why she slapped you.'

'I wasn't the only one who said it! And it's true. She's total buzz-kill!' Ron pointed out.

This time around, Harry was inclined to agree as both boys recalled the times that Hermione had huffed and gone on and on about their merry-making at The Three Broomsticks just three weeks before. What was meant to be a lad's day out on the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year had become a girl nag-a-thon as Hermione, Ginny and Lavendar showed up and Hermione, ever the prude, hounded the boys nonstop about drinking too much on a school night. And they had hardly been buzzed!

'Yea,' Harry said vacantly. 'She really can be a party foul.'

'Hey, that's a good one Harry!' Seamus, appearing out of nowhere chuckled. He plopped down in front of them with Dean. 'Hermione The Party Foul. I love it!'

Ron, Dean and Seamus all laughed at the advent of the Head Girl's new nickname but Harry couldn't help but cringe at the thought of being involved in something that would no doubt send Hermione, since he was bound to hear it. He didn't say anything though. Glancing at the clarion on the other side of the Hall, Harry noted that it was almost time for classes to start. As testimony of that, the dishes on the table began to vanish, along with Ron's porridge, much to the redhead's protests.

'What do you guys have first?' He asked Seamus and Dean.

'Advanced Herbology,' Dean groaned. Harry, Ron and Seamus gave a sympathetic wince. 'Who else thinks Sprout's gone totally mental this year with the homework?'

'Seriously!' Seamus commiserated. 'Who assigns three feet of parchment on bloody Gillyweed for a weekend assignment?'

'I know, mate! I barely had time to get down a foot with the Quidditch match and all the other bloody homework passed out this weekend and all.' Ron grumbled as well.

'So you didn't finish either?' Dean asked, hopeful that he wouldn't be the only one without the coursework for the class.

'No. I got Hermione to show me her essay and just copied that.' He told them smugly.

When the clarion chimed, the boys all trounced off together to Herbology, except for Harry who had a free period. Unlike Ron, who reckoned that Herbology would be the easiest N.E.W.T. level class and would thus be an easy O, Harry had elected to keep his first hour free so that he could finish homework. He had taken to catching up with Hermione in the Library before second hour this year, but given the bushy-haired girl' recent propensity for dealing our slaps and scathing glares like chocolate frogs, he figured he'd best stay clear of her and give her some space to seethe in peace. Plus, when she heard her new nickname a-la Harry, she would most likely be vying for his blood as well as Ron's.

He subconsciously gulped. _Yes, best give her some room._

He gathered up his bag and went down to the Quidditch pitch. He could get in some flying before Charm…


	2. The Heat Thickens

Chapter 2

The Heat Thickens

The Hogwarts Library – or The Nap Room, as it was officially known by the less motivate pupils – was a haven of knowledge. In total, it boasted over seventy thousand volumes of books pertaining to a variety of subjects from magical kite-making all the way to Charms to make one more charming. It also had a different name: Hermione's Temple of Tranquility (or Hermione's Second Bedroom, as Harry and Ron would call it, much to the brunette's annoyance). One could get lost for hours, days, months – even years in the endless tomes. Not willingly, of course. No, it was for the simple fact that most students had it on their own good authority that spending time in the Library when the time for homework was past was deadly dull.

Hermione, though, was one of the rare living souls who would willingly trounce herself with volume after volume of books for hours and call it "playtime." Most people called her mental and she knew it, but it didn't faze her so much anymore. No one understood that learning was just a natural part of who Hermione Granger was. Just like some witches and wizards, like Harry and Ron, identified with Broomsticks and flying, Hermione's pot of gold was spouting facts about the Goblin War of 1656 at rapid speed and reciting the precise ingredients and directions for creating the Blood Replenishing Potion without the aid of a book.

Learning was a part of her. Even to this day, she could never adequately put into words what her relationship with learning really was. All the brunette knew was that her bookish tendencies brought her comfort and she didn't gain nearly as much pleasure from a good cup of tea as she did from her textbooks.

That was why the resident Bookworm of Gryffindor was holed up in her usual spot, towards the back near the Runes section, stuck in yet another book (_Practical Application of Glamour Charms_) before her Arithmency class next hour. She also happened to be seething.

Instead of calming her, like they normally did, the books did little to calm her absolute disdain for Ronald Weasley at the moment. And Harry wasn't that far behind, either! The nerve of them, throwing a party in the Common Room! On a school night. Serving alcoholic beverages on school grounds – of all things – to underage student. On a school night. _Sacrilege!_ If that wasn't unforgivable enough, Ronald then had the nerve to call her a kill joy, which resulted in Finnigan and the rest of the drunken Gryffindors in the room to call her a buzz-kill!

It wasn't the being labeled a buzz-kill that had Hermione so on edge. No, it was more than likely the fact that Harry had heard all of this and had just stood there. Well, laid there might have been more accurate. Granted, he may have been drunk off his mind at the time but Hermione had seen the messy-haired git laughing at her! Both of them were! Having her two best friends sit there and do nothing while she was being patronized by her drunken housemates was as low as it got for Hermione Granger. She believed in honour and decency; instead, she was rewarded with witless accusations and no defence.

Neither of them even had the decency to apologize, which made the humiliating situation just that much worse. Of course, Ron probably didn't even have any recollection of it, if his priceless, deer-in-the-headlights, bewildered stare following the massive slap she had bestowed on him at breakfast had shown. Harry, she wasn't so sure about. He had been looking far too smug and full of himself than for his own good. To her, it could only mean that firstly, he remembered and found the whole situation hysterical, or secondly, that he simply liked to see Hermione worked up.

It didn't matter though. She had made up her mind and was not going to speak to either of them until they racked up the courage and apologized. Of course, if they couldn't remember, Hermione was also aware that she could be in for a rather lonely rest of the year...

Slamming the large, dusty tome in front of her shut, Hermione shoved the book aside and buried her head in her hands. They were only four weeks into the school year and she was nearing her wits end. The homework that the Professors doled out was piling higher and higher and Hermione, already taking Advanced Runes and double Arithmancy, didn't need drama with Harry, Ron and her housemates to add to the load. If she was going to stick to her self-imposed exile of both boys, than that meant her social circle had been cut down to Ginny, Parvati and Lavendar: All girls. Hermione, even though she got on very well with her girl friends, was not one for gossip and glamour as were Parvati and Lavendar, or sports and mischief, as was Ginny.

She would probably be seeing more of the library this year than ever. Which was sad, really, considering that it was her last year at Hogwarts and all...

She didn't have much time to contemplate this, though, as she noticed the shadow of a tall, towering person stretched over her desk. Hermione looked up, hand going instinctively to her wand, and noticed to her immense displeasure, Draco Malfoy. He towered above her with his patent smirk on full-blast. _Honestly, were his muscles frozen in that position or what?_ Hermione heaved a sigh of annoyance and fought the urge to hex him to pieces right then and there.

'Fancy a bit of stuffing with your table there, Granger?' The arrogant Slytherin asked in a booming voice. Hermione rolled her eyes.

'Sod off, Malfoy.' She elected to ignore him and moved to reclaim her recently discarded book when the blonde-haired boy beat her to it and hefted it from her grasp with no effort at all. She looked murderous now, but he paid her no mind.

'_**Practical Application of Glamour Charms**_**?**' He smirked at her in his typical Malfoy way that made him number one on Hermione's Most Hated list. 'Primping for the Yule Ball, Granger? If you ask me, you could use a good primp. Maybe do something about that gigantic shrub that's been growing out of your head your whole life.'

That was the last straw. Hermione shot up out of her chair, and held her wand threateningly under Malfoy's chin. It was now Draco Malfoy's turn to feel the true rage of Hermione Granger.

'Listen, you slimy, good for nothing ferret!' She hissed. 'I'm the Head Girl and you are really toeing the line now, Malfoy. If you don't get out of here right now and stay the hell away from me, I will personally deduct two hundred points from Slytherin House for slandering the Head Girl **and** harassment! Are we clear?'

Her threats, though, did not seem to frighten the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy at all. Rather than sod off, as she had hoped he would, her threat only seemed to encourage Malfoy.

'I meant no offence, Granger. I was merely stating a fact.' The Slytherin said nonchalantly. When Hermione pressed her wand tip even harder against his chin, the Slytherin stepped back, hands up defensively but, as usual, that infuriating smirk never left his face. 'What do you know, Potty called it spot on this time!' He declared triumphantly.

Hermione, nostrils flared dangerously, looked annoyed at Malfoy. 'What are you on about now, Malfoy?'

Malfoy's face suddenly lit up in delight. 'You mean, you don't know what they're saying about our dear, Head Girl today, Party Foul?'

'Party Foul?' Hermione repeated, confused. Her wand was still trained on Malfoy and he treaded carefully along, so as not to be cursed within an inch of his life. _Not like it's worth much anyway._

'Why, yes. That's what they're calling you.'

'And what does this have to do with Harry?'

Malfoy only smirked in response.

Hermione considered his words for a minute. _'Potty called it spot on.'_ Obviously it was something about Harry. But what did that have to do with her suddenly being a 'Party Foul'? Malfoy must have been losing his mind... Hermione suddenly froze. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked as if he could have burst with joy at finally getting one over Hermione Granger.

It suddenly dawned on her! Hermione's eyes flashed with utter rage. _Harry Potter, you are so, so, dead!_ Her wand hand began to tremble with suppressed rage and suddenly, Malfoy looked less smug about his supposed victory. He conscientiously took a step back. Still, not to be outdone by Granger, he decided to shoot back another barb.

'Calming Draught for your nerves, Granger?' He had the audacity to sarcastically proclaim to the furious Head Girl.

'Two hundred points from Slytherin!' Hermione shouted so loud it drew the attention of a couple Hufflepuffs a few stacks down. 'Draco Malfoy, get the hell out of here!'

Knowing where he was beaten, the blonde-haired Malfoy pranced arrogantly out of the Library as he was told, the loss of points not seeming to phase him. A very large part of Hermione hoped that with this victory given to him at last, he could finally sod off and die in peace. She was absolutely livid.

Had Harry really labelled her that way? Was she now the laughing stock of the school because of someone she thought was her best friend? Yes, she was being dramatic now and she knew it but being kept up half the night by a rowdy party, going downstairs to break said party up only to be assaulted by members of her own House and being able to do nothing about it, despite being the Head Girl, then having a run-in with her best friends the following morning, Hermione thought that she was dealing with the situation admirably. There had been witches who had killed wizards for far less.

If not for her keenly-attuned senses to the time when class typically started, Hermione would have been late for her second-hour Arithmancy class. Conscious of the time, she aggressively shoved her books in her bags and stomped up to the Eastern Wing. She would deal with a certain dark haired wizard after class.

(~*~)

While Hermione was faithfully taking notes and plotting ways to kill him in Arithmancy, Harry was sitting through another boring Charms lecture with Professor Flitwick droning on and on about, ironically, Memory Charms. The short and stout Professor assured them that they wouldn't be practising them in class given their dangerous nature but the theory behind them was important to know, since it was not only a Ministry standard for dealing with muggles who may have seen what they shouldn't have, but they were also a common weapon in the depraved acts of mad Wizards.

It had begun interestingly enough, with Professor Flitwick explaining that with a strong enough mind, the tampering effects of a Memory Charm could be resisted. It all had to do with one's mental stamina, Flitwick explained in his squeaky, enthusiastic tone. Harry found the whole theory behind it to be very similar to Occlumency. By the time Flitwick had gone off the proper way to cast one and on to the bit about mental shields, Harry had immediately tuned him out.

Flanked by Ron, who was sitting next to Seamus, both boys looked just as bored as he was by the whole lesson. He began to consider his options. None of them wanted to be here and besides, Harry reckoned that since he was an accomplished Occlumens already, he had a decent handle on the whole Memory Charms thing. Incidentally, he had also read through the chapter dealing with the subject three nights ago during one of his and Ron's always ill-fated study vigils (Hermione wouldn't let either of them leave her until they at least proved they'd digested most of the chapter).

Pulling a spare leaf of parchment out of his book, Harry silently cast a severing charm on a bit of it and hastily scribbled down on it. He balled it up as quietly as possible, so as not to draw the Professor's attention.

'Psst,' Harry threw the crumbled piece of parchment at Ron to get the redhead's attention. Ron, shot him a questioning look. Harry gestured to the bit of parchment that had bounced off him, onto his desk and Ron, knowingly, unscrapped it.

It read: _'Wanna bunk off?' _

The redhead's eyes glowed and he nodded with his fullest approval. Harry pointed at him to ask Seamus. Ron quietly mouthed the question to the Irish boy and he, as well, decided that enough was enough with this stupid lesson.

It was usually difficult to ditch a class, especially in the small Charms classroom. If it were the twenty Gryffindors alone, Harry would have considered it suicide and called the operation off. However, Seventh Year Advanced Charms was mixed with Ravenclaw and as such, there were about fifty students in total. Couple that with the fact that Harry, Ron and Seamus were sitting in the back and that Flitwick had neglected to take roll that morning, it was easy enough to do if you were smart about it. Harry had seen enough people do it before to know how to cut out effectively which, albeit, wasn't something he did very often anyway.

The moment the little Professor's back was turned to the drawing board; all three boys silently crept out of the open archway, successfully making their way out unnoticed (except by Dean Thomas who looked a little put off that he wasn't invited).

Once they were a safe distance down the hall and they were certain they were not in any danger of running in to any Professors, did they dare speak to one another.

'What do you guys wanna do?' Ron asked, his voice echoing in the deserted hall. The corridors were all empty since classes weren't set to let out for another hour or so.

Harry shrugged. 'Dunno. I was thinking of going to the Common Room and going over a few drills I was thinking about for Quidditch this year. What do you guys think?'

Ron, just pleased to be out of the classroom, agreed and so did Seamus. When they arrived in the Common Room, they were pleased to find that it was still empty, which would allot them the space and privacy to do as they pleased.

They chose a table by the window with three easy chairs. Ron collapsed into one dramatically.

'Blimey. Only two classes and I'm already ready to be done.'

Harry smirked. 'Don't get too comfortable. We've got Divination with the Snakes next.'

'Merlin's balls! I thought we had Nap Time with Hufflepuff on Mondays!' Seamus exclaimed.

'I'm afraid not, mate. Plus we have them again in Potion later.'

Ron groaned and Harry, chuckling, pulled out a makeshift chart from his bag and placed it onto the table for both boys to see. At the prospect of Quidditch, they left their troubles at the door and immediately set out to tweak the schedule placed before them. Harry was rather proud of it. With nothing to do over his first hour and finding flying surprisingly unfulfilling without anyone else along, Harry had instead used the time for something more constructive. He devised a training schedule for the Gryffindor House team that he hoped would prove to be rigorous and effective.

Ron and Seamus seemed to be impressed.

'Dang, Harry. This is going to be one bloody hard season if we keep this up year-round.' Ron noted, referring to the segment of the chart that had lined out a running routine.

Although Quidditch was played on brooms, Harry felt that the whole team could benefit hugely from a true physical routine instead of the run-of-the-mill scrimmages on brooms. Their reflexes would be improved, they would be more agile in the air and the Beaters would have more strength to direct the Bludgers. In short, this routine was designed to give them that extra edge and anything that could put them further ahead of Slytherin House was good in anyone's book.

'"Two laps around the lake daily in the morning and a team run of four laps around the Quidditch pitch at the start of every practice,"' Seamus whistled. 'It's going to be a tough sell, mate, but ya know, I think it might just work.'

Harry nodded. 'Yea, I figured I'd need some support in selling this one to them. I was going to run it by everyone today, actually. I'm glad you guys like it.'

'It's brilliant! I mean, mental because of all the running, but brilliant! Slytherin won't stand a chance at all this year!'

'But how are you going to make sure everyone actually does the running?' Ron asked seriously. _Typical Ron,_ Harry thought. When it came to classes, he couldn't be bothered to work out the knots but make it about Quidditch and he was all business.

'I thought about that and there isn't really any way that we can be sure whether they are or not. I mean, we could always ask that if someone doesn't see a team member up and ready to go in the morning, they can tell us but I doubt anyone's going to go and tattle on someone. So I figured we'd probably be able to tell just as well by the fitness of the team. 'Reckon that after a couple weeks we have people about to kick it after two laps around the pitch, that should tell us that they're not sticking to the regime.' He explained it carefully and thoroughly. Seamus and Ron both nodded in agreement.

Seamus was about to comment when suddenly, they heard the portrait swing open. Harry glanced at the clock and felt his heart stop with a bolt of fear. Classes weren't supposed to let off for another hour, no one should be here now. The horrible realization that it could be McGonagall coming to bust them quickly dawned on him and Harry paled slightly. He didn't even want to imagine how much trouble they would be in if they were caught bunking off.

It turned out to be none other than Dean Thomas. The dark-skinned Gryffindor looked slightly miffed but none too cross as he approached them.

'Thanks for letting me in on it too, guys.'

Harry grinned sheepishly at him. 'Sorry, mate. You were on the other side of the room and Flitwick was on your side too. We couldn't risk it.'

'Yea, that's what you get for being such a grumpy, old-arsed loner,' Seamus teased. Dean threw a stinger at him that nipped the Irish boy right in the foot. He chuckled when Seamus jumped and did and awkward little jig from the pain which, consequently, caused Harry and Ron to both laugh as well.

They couldn't risk a full-out hexing war though. McGonagall was most likely in her study, which was adjacent to Gryffindor Tower, and if a fight broke out to their typical standard, then it would most likely attract her attention. Which would be bad – very bad. Harry broke it up, desperate to keep the peace.

'Next time, mate, we'll let you in on it too. Just don't sit so far away.' Harry laughed.

Dean, looking somewhat mollified by that answer nodded. 'It's all good.' He then gestured at the parchment on the table. 'What's that ya got there?'

'Harry's made a more intense training schedule for the Quidditch team,' Ron explained eagerly. Seamus, completely calmed down, had reclaimed his seat at the table.

Dean sat heavily on one of the chairs and pulled the parchment over to him. He scanned it, thoroughly impressed by the looks of it. Harry smiled.

'Wow! This looks like a Premier League regime.' Dean whistled.

At Ron's confused expression, Harry mouthed, 'Muggle sport.' The redhead nodded.

'I'm introducing it to the team today and I'll need your support. Ron and Seamus are already in and we think this is going to be a tough drive. You with us?'

Dean, of course, nodded. 'Definitely! We'll pound Slytherin into the ground if everyone sticks to this, that's for sure!'

Harry, satisfied and feeling quite smug at devising something lauded as being so useful, leaned back in his chair. He didn't bunk off class for nothing. If only the Professors could see that skipping class didn't automatically mean they were messing around and being useless. They could be just as productive outside the classroom.

'So how did you manage to escape, Dean? Weren't you sitting toward the front?' Ron asked.

Dean's expression became both devious and sagely, in a way that only he could pull off. 'That, my good man, is something for the master alone to know... Plus, Flitwick had to go into his office to get something so I just walked out the door when he left.'

'Ha!' Seamus exclaimed, leaping to his feet. 'I knew it! You just don't have our craftiness at outwitting the teachers. We left right under Flitwick's nose!'

Harry, in support, chuckled and went right along with Seamus. Picking on Dean seemed to be the natural thing to do at the moment. 'Did you leave a note on your desk as well?' All three boys, at that, burst out laughing and Dean glared on.

'Oi! You're right clever ones to talk, Potter and Weasley. At least I don't have to worry about what Hermione will say later! I can bunk off in peace!'

'You can also sod off in peace,' Harry chided good naturedly.

'Well all I can say is that I'd hate to be you, Potter, after Granger finds out her new nickname today.' Dean smirked, sensing his victory. Harry's eyes widened. Out of reflex at the mention of Hermione in any sort of a mood, Ron sunk into his chair and swallowed heavily, suddenly becoming very disturbed by where this conversation was headed.

'What does that mean?' Harry asked nervously.

Dean, aware of his advantage, decided to go in for the win. 'Didn't you hear? Word on the street is that yours and Seamus's new nickname stuck.'

Harry's brows knit together in confusion. New nickname? He racked his brain for a minute, and suddenly, his memory took him back to the boy's fun little conversation in the Great Hall at breakfast a few hours ago. Harry's heart began to beat five times faster. But they had been joking around and besides, as far as he knew, no one was around to hear them! There was no way no one had heard them; therefore, the only way it could have been spread around was if one of them decided to start using it. Which meant...

'So which one of you sods started it?' Harry asked, becoming deadly serious. He glowered at Dean and Seamus. He knew Ron wouldn't have said anything. He knew just from this morning that messing with Hermione Granger had some right foul consequences. So, in a deduction that would have made Scotland Yard proud, Harry came to the conclusion that it had to have been either of the two other boys who put the word out there. Seamus was the first to jump in.

'I didn't say anything, mate!'

'You know I didn't.' Ron pointed out plainly.

'Well, I didn't either.' Said Dean.

Harry, still glaring, was not so satisfied with their answer.

'There's no possible way anyone else could have found out about the Party Foul comment because we were the only four sitting at the table and I'm absolutely certain no one was sitting at the House tables behind us. So don't tell me you didn't say anything because it had to have been one of you! Seamus? Dean?'

'Honestly, Harry, we didn't say anything!' Dean shouted. 'Me, Seamus and Ron had Herbology all morning! D'ya think we'd bash on Granger in bloody Herbology with those stupid, imbecile plants that bite you in the arse all through class?'

'Then who could it possibly have been?'

'Malfoy?' Ron offered weakly. Draco Malfoy was Ron's go to guy scapegoat for all of his problems in the world, after all. Harry actually considered the possibility. It was common knowledge that Malfoy was a slimy git. If not Seamus and Dean, then why not him?

'Did you see him in the Hall at the time?'

Ron shrugged. 'I didn't look but I'll bet her was there.'

'I saw him.' Seamus said suddenly. Harry's eyes instantly narrowed. 'Looked over at the Snakes and the ugly sod was laughing about something with Goyle and Zabini before we left.'

'That's probably why the bloody little git was laughing!' Ron snapped finally. 'I'll bet he was eavesdropping and then thought it would be a right laugh to spread it all over the school and then blame it on you, Harry!'

'But how would he have heard us? He was sitting on the other side of the room.' Harry mused. They had now completely abandoned Quidditch and the sheet of parchment laid out on the table before them. Their focus was now on Malfoy and the seemingly impossible feat they were certain he had accomplished.

'Extendedable Ear, maybe? Fred and George are selling them to everyone. They're a real hit. I don't reckon it would be too hard for that bloody sod to get his slimy hands on one.' Ron offered. His was contorted in a vicious glare. Murdering Malfoy was clearly very evident on his mind and if one looked closely into Ron's eyes, they might even be able to see the scenario playing out in them.

Harry recoiled inwardly at the notion that Malfoy was eavesdropping on them with the very items of a family he had deemed 'blood-traitors' and 'useless filth.' If what Ron said was right, then it definitely made sense and suddenly, it wasn't hard at all to put the blame on Malfoy. He glared inwardly. Draco Malfoy was going down this year. It was now official.

'Right then,' Harry said tensely, 'I think you all know what this means. Not only are we going to crush Slytherin in Quidditch this year, but Malfoy is going to pay. This is the year that bloody damn ferret finally gets exactly what he's deserved these past seven years!'

Dean, Seamus and Ron both applauded and whistled, as if they were in the lockeroom after practice and Harry was giving them one of his pre-match pep talks.

Ron grinned with devilish glee. 'I've been waiting for someone to say that since that git bumped me on the train first year.'

'Yea, I know what you mean. I honestly can't stand that bloke. He think he's so amazing – like he owns the school or something. Dirty King of Snakes is going to wish he never messed with Gryffindor!'

And thus was born a dynamic foursome of Malfoy hate, united with one common goal: To make Draco Malfoy's final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sheer torment. After all, they owed him.


	3. Hermione Goes to War

Chapter 3

Hermione Goes to War

By the time lunch rolled around, only half the school knew about Hermione's new nickname. Granted, if it weren't so blasted accurate and funny, it probably would have died quickly but since the cold hard reality was that almost everyone who heard it found it hilarious enough to use, by the time dinner rolled around, the _entire school_ knew about Hermione's nickname. The poor girl had just about had enough.

Head Girl or not, with the entire student body in consensus that her name shouldn't be Hermione Granger but rather 'Party Foul,' there was nothing she could do. She couldn't bloody well go about deducting House points from everyone who called her that or hand out detentions left and right. That would be a definite abuse of her authority. As it was, the Slytherins were now out for her blood after all the points she had deducted from them earlier on in the Library on account of Malfoy. They would occasionally shoot her the most acidic, murderous glares from their table throughout the meal.

When she walked into the Great Hall for dinner that evening, everyone's eyes seemed to be on her. It made her feel extremely uncomfortable and self-conscious. Of course, she didn't need to contemplate her situation long before it would obnoxiously occur to her just why she was in this situation. The source of her recent troubles was sitting just several seats down from she, Ginny, Parvati, and Lavendar.

Harry was just sitting there, tucking in to his dinner as if he could do no wrong. He had even had the nerve to wave her over to he and Ron (whom she still refused to talk to) when she had come in to eat. Hermione, in turn, had merely turned her nose up to him and sat down with her girl friends. She would deal with Harry later. She started to pile a few stalks of asparagus and a generous helping of mashed potatoes onto her plate.

Ginny, Parvati, and Lavendar, on the other hand, were slightly disturbed by Hermione. The way she aggressively speared her asparagus over and over and over again was cause for concern, although – if they were honest with themselves – neither of the girls (not even Ginny) had the courage to ask her what was wrong. No. There were three sacred, unspoken rules in Gryffindor House.

Rule One: Never, ever, - ever – compromise for Slytherin.

Rule Two: Never try to win Brownie points with McGonagall by calling her hot (they had learned that the hard way from Cormac McLaggen's ill-fated crusade to charm himself into the Professor's good graces last year).

And at last, Rule Three: Never, under any circumstances, _ever _ask Hermione Granger what's the matter when something clearly is the matter.

They had witnessed firsthand what could happen to the poor soul who ever did so this morning when the Gryffindor Head Girl bestowed the fine slap tradition on Ron, like Malfoy before him. Although they were relatively certain Hermione wouldn't slap any of them, there was never knowing what could happen if you broke that sacred rule.

Hermione would occasionally glance in Harry's direction and glower when they made eye contact so much that the green-eyed boy was now determinedly focusing on either Ron, Dean and Seamus or his dinner. _Good, be afraid, Harry Potter. You should be very afraid when I get my hands on you. _

She wasn't about to confront him in the Great Hall. The last thing she needed was another repeat of what she had done to Ron that morning (_Which was totally justifiable all the same!_). No, she had planned everything out. She knew Harry usually headed off to the Dorms alone after dinner, since Ron, never one to let food go so easily, was determined to stay until the bloody end of the meal, so Hermione would blindside him then. And when she had him alone, Merlin have mercy on his soul!

She must not have noticed the girl's plaintively uncomfortable looks as she speared a fork through the same stalk of asparagus for the eightieth time that night. It was Ginny who decided to break the tense silence between them first.

'So, I hear Davies finally plucked up the courage and asked Estella Salvia to Hogsmeade this weekend.' The redheaded girl supplied that latest slab of exclusive gossip as if it were supposed to be interesting to Hermione. It did serve to break her out of her dangerous brood, though.

Roger Davies was the Head Boy and Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He was also the secret fantasy of just about every girl at Hogwarts with his compelling intelligence and dashing good looks. Hermione didn't see the appeal herself to be honest. She had always been weary of Davies and his womanizing ways. As for his intelligence, she had to give it to him that he did have the second highest scores in the school, otherwise he wouldn't have made Head Boy, but whether or not he actually put that intelligence to use was another thing entirely. His conversational choices rarely left the sphere of Quidditch.

Estella Salvia was considered one of the most beautiful and glamorous girls in the school. She was in Ravenclaw as well and in her sixth year. Unlike the rest of her studious housemates, however, no one could figure out exactly how a girl like Salvia could have ended up in Ravenclaw. She was the anti-thesis of what that House stood for. Instead of being over achieving – like Davies and the rest of Ravenclaw – Salvia was more concerned with her looks than her grades. That wasn't to say she was failing. She passed her classes with mere, slightly-above-average grades but nothing truly remarkable. Her beauty aside, she had all of the girl next door charm.

Lavendar and Parvati eagerly absorbed this information and squealed with delight.

'Oooh! I so called it didn't I 'Vati! Those two are such a cute couple!' Lavendar gushed. Parvati nodded vigorously.

'I hear he's been waiting to ask her for weeks.' The Indian girl then leaned forward, intoning in a hushed, exclusive tone. 'I've also heard he's going to ask her to the Ball. Isn't that fantastic?'

'Hermione, you're Head Girl. Don't you think it's brilliant?' Lavendar asked her. The way she was energetically shifting on the bench made Hermione vaguely wonder if Lavendar was far too big a fan of caffeinated beverages than was for her own good. The bushy-haired Gryffindor merely shrugged with disinterest.

'Honestly, I just can't see why everyone makes such a big fuss about Davies. I mean, he's nothing special.' The witch pointed out plainly.

Lavendar looked positively scandalized. 'How on earth can you say that? Roger Davies is by far _the most fit_ guy in the school! And he's absolutely charming!'

'He's about as charming as a Hippogriff, Lav,' She replied dryly. Lavendar gasped and Hermione rolled her eyes. 'I've spent more time with Davies this year with Head duties than I would ever want to, and honestly, his supposed charm is just him spouting such cheesy lines that it sounds like he stole them from some horrible, muggle romance book.'

'Like?' Parvati challenged.

Ginny was the only one at the table who was smirking now, aware of what was to come. Not many people knew that one of Hermione Granger's hidden talents – along with biting sarcasm and dry wit – was that she was also rather good at impersonations. This was going to be a right laugh.

She cleared her throat and went right in to the best impersonation of Roger Davies at his most corny that she could muster.

'Excuse me, Granger, but I have a question. How do you like your eggs?' Were it not for the obvious feminine tone, all four of the girl had to admit that it was s spot-on impersonation of Roger Davies. The ego, the machoism, the subtle tossing of the hair and the direct, straight-to-you eye contact – it was all there and so, totally the Roger Davies everyone knew and loved (or hated, as was the case with most of the boys).

All the girls busted in to a round of giggles, including Hermione.

'Good God, Hermione,' Lavendar stammered through a keen bout of laughter, 'I never knew you did such a good Roger Davies!'

'I didn't know you did impressions period!' Parvati chuckled.

'Hermione has hidden depths,' Ginny intoned knowingly. She had a wise look in her eyes as she leaned in conspirtoraly with the three others girls and, deciding that she's risk breaking the sacred third rule of Gryffindor House, cut right to the quick. 'Now, Hermione, what's up?'

Lavendar and Parvati gasped in shock at Ginny's blatant violation of the Unspoken Covenant and Hermione was no longer smiling. The brunette's expression froze stoically into place and she turned back to her dinner, trying her best to come off nonchalant.

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'Oh come off it, Hermione!' Ginny hissed quietly enough so that only the three of them could hear. 'I think everyone knows about that stupid little nickname Draco Malfoy spread around the school but we both know that's not what's got your wand in a knot. So out with it.'

'There's nothing wrong.' Hermione answered, her eyes narrowing into a glare. When Ginny met her defiance with an equally defiant glare of her own, the brunette finally caved. She had always been rubbish at keeping secrets from Ginny Weasley anyway. 'Ok fine! If you must know, I'll give you two easy words: Harry Potter.'

Lavendar and Parvati, for the second time that evening, added to the obnoxious female stereotype by gasping dramatically, as if the mere mention of Harry in a way that was less than flattering horribly scandalized them. Hermione, knowing their talent for gossip, gave them both a very severe look.

'You two can't say anything about this to anyone!' She hissed at the two gossips.

Lavendar and Parvati desperately assured her that they would do nothing of the sort.

A part of Hermione wasn't quite as confident about their self-proclaimed dedication to keeping this a secret and she knew that, with Lav and Parvati around – Hogwart's resident big-mouths – her secret would only be safe with nothing short of an unbreakable vow. For a brief moment, she even gave it some serious consideration but then, shaking her head just slightly, knew she was just being paranoid._ Maybe trusting them with an actual secret will activate some dormant part of their minds that can keep one._ Besides, she didn't so much fancy keeping this to herself anymore. By the state of the thoroughly shredded and speared asparagus on her plate, the stress of dealing with Harry's apparent slight alone was driving her quite mad.

'Alright here goes… Yes, I know Draco Malfoy is the one who circulated the rumour but I also know that Harry is the reason this whole 'Party Foul' rubbish has gotten so out of hand.'

The other three girls looked astonished, hanging off her every word.

'How do you know that?' Ginny asked. Having always been protective of Harry due to her worship of the boy who rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets in her First year, the youngest Weasley was always loath to accept anything bad about him without some sort of evidence.

Hermione took a deep breath and continued. 'I know, Ginny, because Draco Malfoy told me that's who he heard it from.'

'Draco Malfoy?' Lavendar piped loudly enough to turn some heads their way. All three girls vehemently shushed and, shooting off a weak apology, Lavendar lowered her voice. 'Sorry, but since when do you talk to Draco Malfoy?'

'He was harassing me in the Library this morning during my free period (which, unfortunately, seems to be his too) and he couldn't wait to brag about what he had just learned. Honestly, you couldn't wipe the smug off his face with an Unforgivable!'

'Erm, Hermione,' Ginny started rather skeptically, 'how do you know Malfoy isn't just making this all up to have a go at you? It wouldn't be the first time.'

Hermione shook her head sadly. 'I know what you mean, Gin and I actually considered that possibility first. Then I remembered last night and how that all ended.'

Realization dawned on both girls as they remembered a drunken Ron Weasley, flanked by an even more inebreiated Harry laid out on the sofa, laughing incessantly at the Common Room wide chant of, **'Granger is a buzz-kill!'** Suddenly, it started to come together but even that wasn't quite enough for Ginerva Weasley, who still persisted on finding Harry's innocence in the matter.

'Yea I know what you're talking about. But that wasn't Harry who said that, Hermione. It was my git brother and Finnigan.'

'Yea, but Harry went right along with them,' Hermione snapped. 'And in case you don't remember, he was perfectly happy to call me a stick in the mud last week in front of all the Quidditch lads, mind you, when I stopped him from getting totally blitzed on a school night when they wanted to celebrate the first Hogsmeade weekend.'

Ginny, being there herself when said events took place, really couldn't argue with Hermione there. Although she wasn't entirely convinced that Harry was the absolute villain in this scenario, she did have to concede that her bushy-haired friend did have a point. Rather than pushing the matter further along, Ginny just let it go. Parvati and Lavendar both looked as if they could ask more questions but Ginny sent them both a look that clearly told them to let it go.

Hermione, feeling relieved, as if she had taken a weight off her chest, felt the knot of anger that once churned and threatened to boil over into total rage loosen. She could even feel her anger at Harry subsiding. But definitely not so much that she was willing to forgive him unconditionally just yet! No, she would still confront Harry and if he gave her his typically bunk answers he only used when he was lying to her, she would certainly know and would make his life a living hell until he was completely honest with her. Because that was the way Hermione Granger worked – she was absolutely and unequivocally frank.

A quick glance down the row and she saw that the boy in question was already getting up from his seat and, by the looks of it, ready to begin his traditional, lonely trip back to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione waited for him to get to the doors before she stood up and excused herself. She quickly assured Parvati and Lavendar that she'd see them in their Dorm and Ginny, that she would probably see her in the Common Room later. Slinging her back pack over her shoulder, she rushed out the door and quickly moved to head Harry off on the second floor.

She knew he couldn't be too far along. Although Harry's height gave him a considerably longer stride than Hermione, she knew that he preferred to take his evening walks more slowly, just absorbing the rare peace and quiet of the castle, perhaps stopping to speak to a portrait or two. Like her life depended on it, she jogged up the steps and sure enough, Harry was just a few paces away from rounding the corner on the far side of the corridor when he heard footsteps and noticed Hermione rushing up to meet him. He stopped and waited for her.

When he saw her coming bounding down the hall after him, Harry couldn't help but curse inwardly at his recent bout of luck. He hadn't anticipated confronting Hermione about everything tonight. Yes, he knew that he'd get around to it soon enough, but did it have to be tonight? He cursed the gods of magic, who seemed to have made this day solely for taking the piss out of him. First he had to deal with Ron and Hermione's brief row in the Great Hall at breakfast, then he confronted the realization that Hermione might never speak to him again after his stupid, backhanded comment had gone viral and then, to top it all off, Snape and bloody double potions had assigned a huge, effing essay on the Draught of Living Death! And now, he was standing face to face with Hermione, having to come up on the spot with an apology that would more than likely be rubbish and just make matters worse, as his mouth seemed to be getting him into a whole new realm of trouble. _I swear on my magic, I'll never speak again after today…_

'Look, Hermione, I'm-'

'Harry we need to-'

Having realized that they both cut each other off, there was now another awkward silence between them. It was Harry who broke it.

'Please, let me go first, Hermione.' Harry spoke wearily. 'See, I know that you think the person who's spreading all that Party Foul rubbish is me but I swear it's not! It's Malfoy!'

Obviously anticipating an apology instead of a full-out defence from Harry, Hermione's nostrils flared in that particular Hermione way that said,** 'I'll give you another chance to dig yourself out of this massive hole you've idiotically dug yourself, but if you get it wrong again you're dead.' **

Harry gulped at the threat he could clearly see in her passionate, dark brown eyes and had to summon up all of his Gryffindor courage to continue. _Think fast, Potter, or you'll lose your chance. Think you buggering dolt! Think!_

'Look, what I'm trying to say is yea! I know I've been a total prat today and I know that you have every right to be mad at me because the truth is that if I hadn't called you a Party Foul first, Malfoy wouldn't have overheard me and taken off around the school with it… But you've got to forgive me, 'Mione! I know you're also mad about the party last night and I'll admit that I was drunk and being a total git at the time but please, just please stop ignoring me and Ron. This is our final year! We're supposed to be best mates, all three of us! Can we please just put it behind us and tell them all to go bugger off like we usually do?'

Somehow managing to get that out with exactly two breaths, Harry now looked at her as if her were in agony as Hermione purposefully drew out her decision for a few moments.

Alright, that was honestly not what she had been expecting at all. Yea, she expected an apology from Harry but not only had she gotten one – which was amazing in itself but a true miracle from the gods of magic seemed to have occurred. She had received a true, heartfelt apology. Hermione suddenly felt bad about how she had practically stalked him down the Hall and approached him so militantly, she saw Harry visibly flinch in anticipation of a classic, verbal beat down.

Harry studied Hermione cautiously, fully anticipating a deserving, he grudgingly admitted, Ron-sized slap of his own when Hermione did the unthinkable. She launched herself at him, embracing him in a bone-crushing hug that certainly gave Mrs. Weasley a run for her money.

Harry, taken totally by surprise, still grinned and embraced her back enthusiastically. At long last, it seemed their twenty-four hour quarrel was coming to an end. _Score one for Potter!_

Pulling back, Harry was positively beaming as he looked down at her. 'Does this mean I'm forgiven?' He asked.

Hermione was tearing up. 'Oh Harry,' she sobbed, 'of course I forgive you! And Ron! I know you wouldn't do anything to purposely hurt me – I just have no idea what came over me! It's just stress, what with what happened in the Common Room last night. And homework. And Head Duties…' She rattled off the various obligations she had this year while Harry listened on, amused.

They could hear footsteps and echoing voices approaching which meant dinner must have let out already and everyone was heading back to their Common Rooms. Harry urged her forward by the elbow and they both walked back to Gryffindor Tower together.

'I get the picture, you're busy, 'Mione.' Harry chuckled just as Hermione was about to go over her long list of responsibilities for the Yule Ball this year (He still had no idea who he was going to ask!). 'So there was something I wanted to tell you. Promise me you won't get worked up?'

Hermione's eyes narrowed at that statement. 'Why?'

Harry immediately launched into the story of his afternoon and what he, Seamus, Dean and Ron had come to decide.

'Well, I was in the Common Room with Dean, Seamus and Ron today…' Careful to leave off the bit about cutting out of Advanced Charms, Harry proceeded to tell Hermione all about how he had got his first inkling that she might have been mad at him from Dean, and then how the four boys had unanimously decided that they were going to bring Draco Malfoy down.

It was easy, Harry assured her. Not only was Gryffindor going to ruin Slytherin's Quidditch season again, but they also had their eyes set on pranking Malfoy every time they saw him until the git finally sodded off, preferably to hell, Harry had said. When he was finished, they were at the Portrait entrance to Gryffindor Tower and Harry, muttering the password to let them both in, gauged Hermione's reaction as he walked into the Common Room alongside her. There were already a few people about so they chose the discreet route and took the two seats in the corner next to the tapestry.

'So what do you think?' Harry asked.

Hermione, although not upset, didn't look totally sold on the idea. There was hope though. Harry noted that she bit her lip nervously – a trait he knew meant that Hermione was still debating her decision but was seriously leaning toward the 'Yes,' side. To Harry, it was just as good as a yes and a huge grin began to stretch over his face.

'Well… I don't really know…' She started cautiously, but Harry would have none of it. He hadn't worked to convince her just so she could backpedal now. Granted, the boys didn't need her permission at all to bring Malfoy down. Without her on board, Harry knew their combined talents for mischief and taking the piss out of Malfoy was enough to make it a success; with Hermione on board though, they could bring it up a whole notch and chalk it off as a _smashing _success!

'Come on, Hermione,' he gave her his most charming smile, playfully kneading Hermione in the ribs with his elbow. 'You hate Malfoy just as much as the next sane peron. Admit it. You can't pass this opportunity up!'

'And just what is it that you think I'm going to do, Harry?' Hermione asked, feigning being cross with her raven-haired best friend.

'Absolutely nothing you don't want to do, Hermione.' Harry quickly attempted to mollify her, playfully raising his hands up defensively. 'The only thing I'm really asking is that we don't have the Head Girl or Boy breathing down our necks the whole time we're trying to pummel the Snakes.'

Harry was inwardly quite pleased with himself for broaching this last topic in particular so casually. This was the game breaker; the part that would say whether or not all their plans were going to be for naught. Harry was very well aware that bringing Hermione's authority into their plans had the potential to backfire. After all, he and Ron were both extremely aware of Hermione's hang up with justice and what exactly she felt about the vast number of Prefects whom she knew constantly protected their mates when they violated the rules. It was a Quaffle to pitch, but then again, Harry Potter was also Hermione's best friend. If that wasn't incentive enough, Dract Malfoy's impending fall from grace he hoped would be enough to sweeten the pot to see things his way.

There was silence between them for a few moments as Hermione considered his offer. To Harry, the mere fact that she was even considering it was something of a victory in itself.

'I don't know if I can do that, Harry. You'll have to let me think about it.' She finally answered him.

Harry's face dropped but only slightly. _Time_ _to break out the Potter charm._ He just couldn't let Hermione slip. Not here, when she was so close to agreeing with him! _Eyes on the Snitch, Potter, eyes on the Snitch._ 'Alright, Hermione, don't think of it as… erm… aiding in – erm – violation of school policies.' He prided himself on how official that last bit managed to sound. 'Think of it as performing a special service to the school!'

'Services to the school?' Hermione arched a delicate brow at her friend. She secretly found it both adoreable and hilarious to see Harry grasping for straws whilst still attempting to remain suave about the whole thing.

'Yea, school services! How many people do we know who hate Draco Malfoy?'

'Umm, is that a rhetorical question?'

'Precisely!' Harry grinned. 'Everyone hates Malfoy. Seventh year, Hermione! Think of it! If we put that git in his place at last, we would go down in Hogwarts history!'

_Yea, for the wrong reasons, though. _Hermione wasn't going to argue with Harry, though. Truth be told, it was completely public knowledge to all that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger hated one another with such a fiery passion that it transcended all the planes of normal hate in this realm and was in a league entirely of its own. The best way to sum it up was that Hermione didn't want Draco Malfoy dead, so much as she no longer wanted him to be alive any longer.

She thought of all the years Malfoy had harassed her about her Muggle heritage; when he had cursed her to make her teeth grow to embarrassing proportions that she really did look the part of a human beaver; or the times when, as they got older, the blonde haired git would even go as far as vanishing her books in the corridors in the rare occurrence that he had a clear shot at her.

If she had to contemplate her choice any longer, she would no longer have any choice but to commit herself to St. Mungo's for being an absolute nutter. Still, she secretly had a feeling she was going to regret this. _Tonight's the night that Hermione Granger damns herself to Head Girl Hell. _Although there was still a distinct shiver of delight from the fact that she was going to be instrumental in extracting her revenge on Malfoy, a little party of Hermione insisted that she was no better than one of those back alley Aurors that would occasionally appear in the Prophet for selling their protection to illicit witches or wizards in the name of Galleons. Was she really that much better? She was selling her power as an authority figure among her peers for revenge.

'Ok Harry,' she responded slowly, as if testing the weight of the words she was uttering on her tongue, 'I'll do it. But this can't get out and if themes pranks end up being injuring or a problem for someone else, then the deal's off and I'll have no choice but to dole out punishments.'

Good Merlin, she had called it a deal too! What was the world coming to when Hermione Granger willingly put the well-being of another student in jeopardy for her own amusement? Well, at least there wasn't a cloud in sight raining on Harry's parade. He was positively beaming so widely that, by extension, he could have been a walking piece of that bright, mythical ball of light that had passed into legend for all those who called Scotland their permanent home.

He leaned forward and enveloped her in a massive hug.

'Hermione, you're the best!' Harry exclaimed. Hermione nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. _Oh Lord, what have I done?_ He pulled away. 'Alright, so I'll talk to Ron and we'll go from there. Trust me, 'Mione – we've got huge plans! Huge ones!'

But he didn't even have to go far to talk to one Ronald Weasley because the boy in question happened to walk into the Common Room at that very moment. Flanked by Seamus and Dean, with whom he was having a typically animated discussion about Quidditch (What else was new?), he spotted Harry and Hermione in the corner. Having kept the memory of Hermione's slap close to his mind (and his cheek) Ron cautiously approached the two, with the other two boys in tow. Had Harry finally managed to bring her anger levels down? Honestly, he wasn't very keen on fighting with Hermione - especially when he had a Charms essay due in two days!

Ron came to stand next to Harry, eyeing Hermione with caution. Harry, knowing it was now Ron's turn to pay retribution to the Head Girl, decided to bow out of this one. He remained silent in his seat, while Seamus and Dean stood back against the wall, watching the scene about to play out with interest. Part of them couldn't help for an action-packed Hermione to lash out and slap Ron again – that would have been wicked!

'Uh- Hi, Hermione...' The redhead began nervously. Harry blanched inwardly. Ron had always been utter rubbish with apologies. 'Erm... How was Runes?'

The strained expression on his face was priceless to Hermione. She had never met another human being who found it so difficult to spit out the words, **'I'm sorry!'** or an acceptable equivalent thereafter. Normally – knowing Ron - she would have acknowledged this as his attempt at apologizing but this time, a devious little part of her thought it would be hilarious to make the redhead squirm a bit. She didn't know why. Perhaps it was because she found the little deal she had made with Harry not but a few minutes ago to be her own version of hitting the bottom of the barrel in honesty; or, maybe it was because she had just decided to let her hair down a bit. After all, it was Seventh year, and – like it or not – this all sounded like a bit of fun. And besides, she was still a bit sore about this whole nickname nonsense that seemed to be sweeping through the student body like an unwelcome infection.

'Good evening, Ronald.' Hermione shot back primly, her face passive. 'Runes was quite enjoyable. Professor Vector allowed us to spend the last hour working on deciphering ancient runes made by the Greek Wizards approximately two thousand years ago. How was Herbology class?'

Ron looked like he was about to choke. Obviously he expected Hermione to shoot up in a rage and yell at him, perhaps stomp up to her dorm too and swear not to speak to him for the rest of the night. No, instead he got Hermione acting like... well... _Hermione._ He had no idea what to say.

'Oh... erm – that sounds good. Yea... Herbology was fine...'

Hermione couldn't take it much longer. She shot a knowing look with Harry, whose head was down as he tried to suppress the urge to laugh. He knew exactly what Hermione was playing at.

She burst out laughing and Ron almost fell over.

'Oh good, Ronald! I'm so very glad for you!' She choked out through a fit of giggles.

Ron jut looked downright confused. He looked at Harry and glared when he noticed his best mate was laughing as well.

'What are you two playing at?' He asked Harry, looking utterly scandalized. The Boy-Who-Lived looked up, taking his glasses off to wipe a tear from his eye, and attempted to declare his innocence by giving Ron a hearty shrug.

'Sorry, mate. You sort of fell into this one big time.' He looked at Dean and Seamus, who were both apparently just as confused as Ron. 'All right there, you two?'

Dean merely gave him a thumbs up while Seamus decided that nothing could his express his well-being more than clapping his arm around Ron's shoulder and declaring in his loud, booming Irish voice, 'She had you good and proper there, Ron! Nice one, Granger!' Ron shoved his arm off of him and pushed Seamus. He smirked and returned to the wall next to Dean.

Hermione beamed back. 'Why thank you, Seamus.' She turned her attention to Ron, who began to look a bit hurt at being ignored. He may have been assaulted by Hermione, but she was still supposed to be one of his best mates. 'And yes, Ron, I forgive you.'

It took them all a few moments to calm down, mainly Dean and Seamus. It was a rare occurrence in nature to see Hermione Granger get one over Ron in the prank department. They calmed down after a few moments though and, deciding to call it a night, went off to bed. They assured Harry and Ron that they would talk more about their latest plan of action in the morning.

Now Harry, Ron and Hermione were seated around the table, the humour having subsided. It was nice, Hermione decided, to be on speaking terms with them. Truth be told, she didn't fancy spending night after night alone in the Common Room or all the day hours holed up in the Library in an attempt to escape Parvati and Lavendar's ceaseless gossiping babble. No, she got on much better with Harry and Ron. Her boys...

'So,' Ron started, 'what were you and Harry carrying on about when we came in?'

'Hermione's going to help us bring Malfoy down!' Harry threw in excitedly. 'She's agreed to help keep Davies off our back so we're pretty much free to mess with Malfoy in peace.'

'Really, Hermione?' Ron asked, bewildered. Hermione nodded. 'That's bloody brilliant! Ok, Harry that's it! We've got to start planning something big!'

Hermione sat back and watched their exchange, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. _Boys..._

Harry nodded back enthusiastically. 'I know! So I sent an owl to Sirius and asked him for a few ideas. I'll bet he knows loads of good stuff!'

'And I sent a letter to Fred and George. I asked them for a few things from the shop that they might like to donate to the cause.'

'So do you have any ideas on where we might like to start?'

'Umm... A few.' Said Ron. 'They're basic stuff, really. Like, charming his hair Green? Oh- and I read in one of Fred and George's joke books this spell to transfigure clothes.'

'How about vanishing his robes in the middle of class?'

Both Harry and Ron looked at Hermione, shocked. She had, indeed, just voiced that suggestion. Hermione rolled her eyes huffed.

'Honestly you guys! I already told you, Harry, that I'm on board,' _And severely risking my credibility to do this, _'so I'm all in! Now, let's get to work! Harry, in Potions tomorrow you'll...'

And so, to their total disbelief, Hermione had cast her lot with the pranksters – contrary to all odds. She leaned in conspiratorially towards them from across the table and began to layout one of the best pranks they had heard in so long, it would have made the Weasley twins proud. This was it! October third, nineteen ninety-seven: The day Hermione Granger declared war on Draco Malfoy...

_**A/N:** So there you have it! Hermione has officially gone to war with Malfoy, which means some serious hijinks is about to go down at Hogwarts! What do you guys think? Read and review! And the next chapter will be up no later than three days, possibly earlier._


	4. Quidditch and Conspiracy

Chapter 4

Quidditch and Conspiracy

The morning after their astonishing 'strategy meeting' with Hermione, Harry, Ron and Dean found themselves traveling down to the Lake, bright and early, for their two laps around, in accordance to the new Quidditch stratagem that Harry had introduced to the team the evening before. Normally, being out and about the Castle this early – _what was it, five in the morning?_ – would have been the most effective way to buy a week's worth of detention but Harry, having shown his plans to McGanagall, had gotten the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team approval to do their exercises consequence free, so long as running was all that they did. Students were typically only allowed to be in the corridors as early as six in the morning.

'I'm beginning to regret this.' Ron muttered a bit grumpily as they passed the final flight of stairs up to the entrance hall.

'Seconded.' Dean muttered in much the same vain.

'Sorry mates. Why don't you run back up to the Dorms real quick and put your tampons on. I'll wait here.' Harry smirked at both of them.

Typically crap in the mornings; Ron and Dean were such easy targets. It was extremely easy to throw a quick jibe at them before they had their breakfast, which was something Harry had found to be extremely entertaining on the few occasions that they had snuck out of Gryffindor Tower early to have a few rounds around the pitch before breakfast. Ron would usually shoot back something hideously weak, but venomous all the same, while Dean would grunt irately. It was when they were wide awake, though, that Harry would have to keep his guard up.

Harry wasn't particularly tired. He managed to nod off somewhere around eleven, while the other two boys stayed up discussing the brilliant plan Hermione had given them (For the first time ever, he couldn't wait for Double Potions today!). He wasn't sure when they went down, but judging by the foul humour they were in at the moment, Harry figured it would probably take a spot of breakfast before Ron and Dean rejoined the realms of the non-whinging.

'Sod off, Potter.' Ron growled, his sleep-laden voice reminding Harry vaguely of a muggle lawn mower. Dean responded with his typical, protesting groan and scowl.

They turned another corner into the Grand Foyer. Harry chuckled as they walked through large, double doors and into the fresh morning air.

'Ok. You guys stay here and I'll go grab 'em for ya.' As if making to double back up the stairs, the Boy-Who-Was-Cruising-For-An-Arse-Kicking ducked and chuckled heartily when Ron picked a stone up off the gravel trail and chucked it at his head.

'Harry,' _It was too damn early to be acting like a prat,_ Ron grumbled, 'has anyone told you before that you're a real prick?'

'Oh yea! Loads of times!'

They were nearly at the Lake now. The birds were chirping, the trees were singing as the wind lightly ruffled their branches and the sun was blazing brilliantly as it made its ascent over the Forbidden Forest – it was the perfect day! As if that weren't perfect enough, Draco Malfoy's fall, pending for the middle of Double Potions in t-minus four hours, was the absolute cherry on top. Harry couldn't help but grin.

'Hey, stop sulking like a couple of women! Today's going to be great!' Harry attempted to raise the flagging spirits of the exhausted two boys beside him. When they didn't even make an attempt to smile, Harry frowned slightly. _Couple of moody arses… _

Had he been looking close enough, he might have noticed the devious exchange of looks between Ron and Dean. They both seemed to read one another's minds as they came to the Lake. As usual before a jog, Harry began to stretch, which was what they were counting for. When he pulled up his ankle after a couple squats, his balance being compromised, both boys immediately flanked the _Raven Haired Morning Prick_, and went to toss him into the freezing water.

'Oi, what the hell are you doing? Get off me!' Harry attempted to flail his way to freedom as Ron grabbed him by his arms and Dean easily hoisted him up by his legs.

Although he fought, he secretly knew it was useless. He was a Seeker trying to fight against a Keeper and a Beater, not to mention that aside from Seamus, Ron and Dean were the two strongest blokes on the team. Therefore, as he neared the water with this knowledge in mind, Harry decided that his attempts to rescue himself were useless and instead let up a silent prayer to whatever god was listening. _Please let it not be freezing for once! _

Dean and Ron gave him a few swings then, letting him go, watched as their Captain made a healthy** SPLASH **in deep end of the Black Lake. Like a drug, the sight of Harry flailing about for a moment before he swam back to the shore restored both their good humours. They both laughed as Harry remerged with a death glare painted across his face that promised retribution later.

Whipping his wand out of his back pocket, Harry muttered a warming charm to battle the teeth-chattering cold seeping into his bones then, placing it back into his pocket, turned his attention back to Ron and Dean. Those two wankers were going down!

'Why look at that, Thomas,' Ron's obnoxious, full-of-himself voice assaulted him, in retribution for how he'd ribbed them not but three minutes ago, 'A sopping-wet, strapping bloke just washed up on the shore!'

'Indeed, Weasley. Wouldn't it be great for a couple of women like us to see him in his skivvies?' Dean grinned deviously and Harry, channeling Hermione and giving them one of his best _**'Don't you dare!' **_looks, bent his knees defensively.

Ron's eyes narrowed and, stooping forward and hiking his shoulders up defensively with Dean, once again bringing up the right in a similar fashion lunged at Harry. Doing his best to beat them back with a few wildly placed elbows, he might have been successful were it not for Thomas overwhelming him and pinning his arms to his back. Not a second later, Ron gave a mighty tug and down went the shorts of the Boy-Who-Lived!

Both boys immediately took off like a shot around the Lake leaving Harry behind as he quickly hitched his shorts back up. He took a moment to look around, and was relieved to find that no one was on the grounds but them, yet. Ron and Dean might have considered counting just how blessed they were that no one else was around to see that.

He set off in fast pursuit of the two boys, who by then were about a quarter of the way around but Harry, being the faster of the two, quickly caught up with them and with as mighty a shove his smaller, wiry Seeker's build could muster, he successfully pushed a sprinting Ron into the shallow side of the icy lake. _Ginger down_! _Now that leaves the other tosser. _His eyes leveled menacingly on the dark-skinned boy just a few paces away.

'Harry, mate,' he huffed, as if his cowardly pleading was somehow going to change his mind, 'I swear on my life I didn't-'

But it was too late for Dean Thomas as Harry whipped his wand out from his back pocket and with an expert swish, banished the man/boy to join his other friend in the water. He smirked at them as they scrambled back to their feet, shivering. If vengeance was pumpkin juice, Dean and Ron had just drunk a mighty large goblet full of the stuff.

Ron was the first to get back on his feet. With a mighty roar, the mischievous redhead sprinted after Harry and let off an indignant shout. 'You are so dead, Potter!'

Forty minutes and approximately five dips in the Black Lake later, all three boys emerged through the Portrait Hole and trouped back to their Dorm in a dripping mess. It was still early and as they trudged up the stairs, Harry spotted a few people from the Quidditch team either lacing up their trainers or pulling on t-shirts through the open doors of the dorm rooms. He was pleased that they were following their example and following the training schedule.

It hadn't been met with a standing ovation, true, but when Harry pointed out to his teammates that these exercises would give them a massive advantage over the Slytherins – who didn't invest nearly as much time in physical training – their opinions suddenly changed. He wouldn't say that they were suddenly very keen on the idea of getting up before the bloody birds to take a couple turns about the Lake, but if it meant that they could more easily embarrass their snakely contenders, then let the sweat fall!

When they arrived back in their Dorm room, a satisfied Harry sat his damp but drying form onto the edge of his soft, down four-poster. He leaned over his trunk and began to fish out the white, pristine oxford shirt and black slacks of his school uniform, which he placed beside him, along with his toilet bag. Hearing the sound of the shower starting in the shared shower room, a quick scan of the room told him that Dean had gone in. Ron – the slowest of the boys when it came to getting things arranged – was still rummaging around in his trunk for whatever it was he was looking for. He assumed it was the boy's ever-elusive uniform shirt. Harry couldn't help but smirk as he pondered his best friend for a moment; Ron's predictable lack of organizational skills made for killer prank material.

One particularly hilarious memory was when he, Seamus and Dean had set him up on a scavenger hunt for all of his trousers while he was in the shower one morning. That had been bloody hilarious – especially the particularly priceless image of Ron storming down the stairs into the Gryffindor Common Room with nothing but a towel around his waist, angrily demanding his clothing back. That had gotten a right good laugh from everyone in the Common Room, and even button-happy Colin Creevy had managed to snap a photo of it!

'What the bloody hell are you staring at?'

Harry, somewhere in the middle of his memories, must not have noticed that he was staring at Ron with a particularly devious smile on his face. The redhead in question's eyes were narrowed in suspicion; trust Harry to pull a fast one over him while he wasn't looking and if the devious glint in those emerald eyes was anything to go on, it was highly plausible that he was plotting Ron's newest headache. In gruesome detail.

Harry, not feeling like giving Ron that satisfaction or inner ease of a straight answer, merely shrugged and waltzed past him – chipper as an ickle firsty who had just survived their first encounter with Professor Snape – to the showers, his clothing and toilet bag in tow.

Besides, he did feel a bit devious today to begin with for who could ever forget the day Draco Malfoy met his match?

Hermione Granger was not a happy camper. Sitting in the Great Hall by herself (Harry and Ron had yet to arrive, despite being up three hours earlier than everyone), she couldn't ignore the obnoxious sniggers and whispers of every student that passed by her seat. No doubt they were having a good laugh at that blasted, idiotic nickname Harry had unwittingly bestowed upon her yesterday.

Thinking about that just made her livid against her best friend again. Of course, she couldn't exactly blame the full scope of her current predicament on Harry alone. He had merely opened his stupid, prat mouth and come up with the name; it was _Draco Sodding Malfoy_ who had eaves-dropped and spread the word abroad to the entire school with a fervor that made Lavendar and Parvati's gossip spreading skills look heinously inadequate. And unlike Malfoy's usually witless, universally offensive remarks, this was one thing that the entire student body could have a good laugh about because not only was it true but – were she not the one stuck with it, she might have found it too – pretty hilarious in being so true to form.

She looked up at the Slytherin table, where Mister Bollockless Git himself was smugly chatting it up with his Slytherin pals. He was completely oblivious to the Head Girl's murderous eyes trained on him and the vicious mantra that was going through her head: _Say your prayers, Malfoy. Say your prayers… _She was now more anxious than ever to get this pranking business under foot.

The sound of two people dropping heavily into the vacant spots on either side of her drew her attention from His Royal Ferretness.

'Morning, 'Mione,' Harry's obnoxiously bright voice chimed as he and Ron proceeded to pile their empty plates high with bacon, eggs and black pudding. His eyes had a mischievous glow to them this morning. 'Ready for Potions today?'

Hermione, knowing what Harry was referring to, felt her heart lighten just a bit at Malfoy's impending doom. 'Oh yes, and I am anticipating it eagerly.'

Ron, who was sitting beside her and tucking in to a plate full of eggs, sounded off from the left. 'I never thought I'd say it but you two are so lucky to be in Potions!' The Gryffindor Keeper enviously proclaimed. 'What I wouldn't give to see-'

'_Shh!'_ Harry abruptly chastised him. Ron immediately went mum and shut up. 'Extendable ears, remember?' 

He turned back to Hermione, who had begun gnawing half-heartedly at her toast. Harry frowned. The Hermione he knew, if she wasn't getting on their case about doing homework or studying more, was usually more talkative and cheerful. These past two days, it seemed that her whole personality had gone into a downwards spiral. Except for when she, surprisingly, had helped plan the impending disaster in Potions for this morning, Harry and Ron had seen very little of the cheerful, bossy Hermione they knew and loved.

He figured a change in subject was in order. 'Second Quidditch match is tomorrow. It's against Ravenclaw.'

Hermione, for her part, shrugged disinterestedly. 'So I've heard.'

'And another supporter in the stands could really do good for team moral…' Harry continued to press the issue, hoping that Hermione would accept his invitation. The bushy haired girl was seldom in the stands during Quidditch matches for the regular season and besides.

She seemed to catch on. But rather than give him the answer he had hoped for, she shook her head glumly. 'Sorry, Harry. I wish I could come down but I can't. I have to do revisions for my Arithmancy exam on Wedneday.'

Ron, who had just finished helping himself to another serving of bacon and eggs (running really did make his monstrous appetite even more grotesque) and bristled slightly at her comment. 'Oh come on, Hermione! You're probably the most prepared student in the class with or without your revisions. Tomorrow's match is important!'

'And why is that, Ronald?' She asked haughtily, shooting him a glare. _How dare he call the importance of her studies into question! _

Ron's comment also caught Harry off-guard. He looked quizzically at his friend. 'Yea, what's up? I haven't heard anything significant about the match either, except that Davies fancies his team as the best all of a sudden. Stupid ponce…'

'It's nothing big,' Ron started defencively, clearly letting slip something he oughtn't have. Harry hung on to his every word as if it were Merlin himself uttering them.. 'Just that I heard from Fred and George a couple days ago that there's supposed to be a scout from Puddlemere United in the crowd. But don't quote me on that!' He finished quickly.

Harry was flabbergasted, teetering on the edge of mirth and explosive excitement. This was the most amazing news in the world! United were a world class Quidditch team! Just getting a scout up to Scotland from their club was a huge achievement since it was a known fact that they usually chose their new Reserves from their own camp. Imagine that, he thought, a scout from Puddlemere. Imagine the possibilities…

'How do you know George isn't just having you on?' It was Hermione who burst his bubble. Despite making up with her, Harry couldn't resist a subtle glare her way as he grudgingly accepted the validity of that question.

Ron's confidence wasn't bruised, however. He plainly pointed it out to her, 'It makes sense. Fred and George are still good mates with Oliver Wood. You know he's their starting Keeper, right? He's the one who told them.'

Hermione – not taken in with Ron's logic as the boy in question was – merely gave her own classic, 'Hrrmph,' and went back to her breakfast.

There was silence for a moment, as Ron glared at the bushy-haired girl next to him with a familiar glint in his eyes. Harry could practically read that expression, as Ron was contemplating whether or not he wanted to press the issue with the Doubting Thomas sitting beside him. Quick to diffuse the tension, it was Harry who broke the silence.

'Do you think we should mention this during practice tonight?' He asked Ron, who then turned his attention to him.

'I wouldn't if I were you,' He nodded, going into his Second General mode that normally came about when they were discussing tactics. 'The older ones could probably take the pressure but the younger ones like Flannigan and Mavis would probably just cock up badly. Best keep this between us, if you know what I mean.'

Harry deemed this logic to be quite sound. He made to respond when he noticed that beside him, Hermione had pushed her plate away and was standing up. He shot her a quizzical look. 'Erm- where are you going?'

'Class,' she told him as she swung her back over her shoulder. 'Potions start in ten minutes. You had better get a move on too, Harry. I don't fancy having to sit by myself today.'

Glancing at the clarion Harry realized, with some disdain, that she was right. He had been so caught up in his discussion with Seamus about Malfoy's Day of Reckoning that he and Ron had been late for breakfast. Of course, he realized, this meant that he would not have the pleasure of watching Malfoy squirm on a full stomach. Pushing his plate away, he realized that he really did need to go, if they wanted to get a seat near Malfoy. Being close to him was crucial to the prank's success.

'Alright, mate, I'll see you later,' he told Ron, who was busily munching away on some toast and bacon. He had a free period until Charms in the afternoon.

'Get him good for me!' He called after them, waving them off with his fork.

The mature part of the day had just begun.

'That potion isn't supposed to be light blue at this stage, Finnigan! Twenty points from Gryffindor!' Professor Snape's oily voice boomed through the Dungeons as he made his rounds up and down the aisles, offering criticism to every working pair he passed whilst he did so.

All the Slytherins sniggered as he chewed out the Irish boy, save for 'poor' Blaise Zabini, with whom he was paired that day. The Gryffindors, on the other hand, all glared daggers into the Potion Master's back while he wasn't looking, house unity binding them together at that moment. Seamus didn't seem embarrassed by the attention being put on him, rather, he looked more annoyed as Snape then proceeded to vanish the contents within the cauldron, having deemed it unsuitable and bestowing the ill-fated pair with a zero for the day.

'Since your incompetence has caused not only your grade but your partner's to suffer as well, Mr. Finnigan, you are now going to be assigned a foot of parchment on the theory behind the Polyjuice Potion and where you went wrong. I expect it on my desk tomorrow at the beginning of class.' He then turned his back on the red-faced Irish boy to address the rest of the class. 'The same goes for anyone else who finds themselves incapable of producing a proper potion. This a N.E.W.T level class so I would expect that all of you would have no trouble brewing one of the less difficult potions you will be assigned throughout the duration of this course.'

Receiving the applause of several sour groans, his black, ominous eyes glittered with a particular caution in them as they scoured the class, as if daring someone to challenge his authority. When he appeared satisfied that his warning had sunk in, Hogwart's resident, human grease ball returned to his desk.

At the back of the classroom, partnered up with Hermione, Harry was inwardly grateful that he had escaped Snape's wrath. No, he preferred to go under the greasy git's radar today, considering that any minute now, Hermione would give him the all-clear and then the real chaos would start. Although he truly felt for Seamus and would normally have stuck up for him, he resisted the urge to point out how glaringly unjust it was that his dorm-mate had to produce that dreadful essay and Zabini got off scot-free. As it turned out, though, he kept his mouth shut and his hand on one of disposable wands Ron had supplied him with from his latest care package with Fred and George.

Beside him, Hermione's eyes were darting from the cauldron, which was now simmering along nicely with the potion at its proper, forest green shade, to Malfoy. The foul, slimy git was sitting at the desk diagonal to them, in the third row on the far right, partnered up with Parkinson. Harry noted with disdain that their potion appeared to be coming along fine as well, which was a testament to both his and Pug-Face's potion making skills. Although, he did rally slightly on the knowledge that their potion – as fine as it was – still wasn't up to the quality standards of he and Hermione's, which was as textbook perfect as it came. Also, in a moment, the Ferrety Git would be wishing he hadn't come to class today.

As it happened, Malfoy and Parkinson appeared to be wrapping up their own brewing session a bit early as the blonde held up a vial and the other Slytherin poured the goopy, not-quite-forest-green contents into it. Once they were done, Malfoy stood up and began to cap it. Harry took this as his cue. He turned to Hermione.

'Shall I add more boomslang skin?'

Hermione, making to look as if she were scrutinizing their perfect potion, nodded and told the anxious Harry with only a bit of satisfaction, 'Yes.'

This was how they had planned it.

Snape's timetable that he had handed out at the beginning of class had stated that they would begin with brewing and the last half would be lecture-style, as they skimmed over the theory of the Polyjuice Potion. Hermione initially wanted to get Malfoy at the end of class whilst he was leaving the Dungeons, which would have been funny enough. Harry, though, in order to ensure maximum hilarity had overridden her idea and deigned that they would carry out the brutal deed just as Draco was going up to deliver his potion. This would ensure that the whole class would see and if they were lucky enough, Snape's perpetual foul mood might cause him to verbally lash out at Draco's coming predicament, resulting in bonus points!

Wand hidden under the desk, Harry aimed at Draco's prone back as he walked over to Snape's desk, vial in hand. His aim true, he muttered the spell.

'_Evanesco.' _

A loud gasp from Pansy Parkinson vibrating through the semi-empty classroom drew everyone's eyes from their Cauldrons and surely, each one came to land on Draco Malfoy as he stood in the line, yet to truly comprehend what the fuss was about. Until a sudden draught in the Chamber alerted him to the god-awful nature of his predicament.

He looked down in sheer bewilderment to find that his black, finely pressed uniform-regulation trousers had been vanished right off his legs, knickers and all! With a horrified, yelping sound, the vial fell from his hand and shattered to the floor as Malfoy quickly pulled his robe tightly around his body to cover his nakedness. As if on cue, the whole dungeon – even the Slytherins, try as they might to appear po-faced – broke out into raucous laughter.

It was then that Snape chose to come on to the scene. The Potion's Master, clearly not as appreciative of the prank as the rest of the class, scowled daggers and swooped to the front of his class like a great, winged bat. Just him being there did little, though, to calm down the deafening chuckles or the students falling onto the dungeon floor left and right, holding on to their stomachs as if they too might just vanish.

'Silence, all of you!' Snape shouted in a sharp, hissing tone. And it was almost as if there was a Dementor in the room as all the mirth seemed to die and soon, it was just Malfoy standing there in utter bewilderment, the splattered remains of his potion at his feet. Snape was quick to tend to him, though. 'While you are all so juvenile to see the humour in this, I, for one, do not! Now, whoever it is who… _**pranked**_ Mr. Malfoy, it would be in their best interest to come forward now otherwise I will find you myself and you won't want that, trust me.'

The class was deadly quiet. Harry almost broke out in a sweat that moment as he could feel Snape's eyes drilling a proverbial hole in his head. He clearly believed him to be the guilty party. Which was actually true. But he had no right to just assume that! Luckily, he was clever enough to quickly stash the fake wand in his robes, so if it came to what he thought it would, he wouldn't be found out.

'All right then, have it your way.' Snape declared silkily when no one came forward. Suddenly, he glided over to Harry and Hermione's desk, giving both a momentary startle. Almost predictably, he snapped, 'Potter! Hand over your wand!'

Harry, looking the very picture of innocence, feigned shock and even peppered in a bit of appallment, just to make it look even better. 'Sir?'

Snape wasn't convinced. He held out his hand, palm up to receive what he had demanded. 'You heard me, Potter. _Your wand._ **Now!**'

Hermione nervously squirmed a bit, ever so subtly beside him, as Harry obediently stuck his hand into his robe pocket, pulled out his real wand and placed it into Snape's outstretched palm without so much as breaking a quiver. With a sense of triumph, the _Slimy Git of Hogwarts_ held his own wand tip against Harry's and uttered the spell.

'_Prior Incantato!' _

'So tell me again how you did it! I mean, you actually got him!' Ron was beside himself with laughter, wiping a tear out of his eye as he nearly fell off the bench in the Gryffindor House dressing room.

Everyone on the team was gathered around Harry, as he finished pulling on his shin guards and gauntlets, eager to hear the story that had spread around the school like wildfire: How Draco Malfoy had lost his pants in Potions Class. It was a story that was sure to go down in Hogwarts history; and Gryffindor was proud to boast that the brave hero responsible for all of this was their very own Quidditch Captain, Mr. Seeker himself!

Harry grinned, more than happy to appease his anxious audience with the tall caper of this morning's entertainment. Having pulled his shin guards on, he sat firmly on the bench and, like someone's grandfather would, began to recite the tale as it had happened.

'Well, children,' he started in his mock-patronizing tone, 'I had the idea to do it from Hermione, so if anyone deserves full credit for what happened to our dearly beloved King of Snakes, it is her. I was just the hired wand. But anyway, here's how it went down!'

Everyone leaned in eagerly.

'Ron gave me a disposable wand that his brothers sent him to do the spell since, as you know, I couldn't very well de-pants our little Dragon with my own wand. Risky business, that. So I smuggled it into the Potion's classroom. The first half of the class was brewing so when Malfoy was done cocking up his and Pug's potion…'

No one dared make a sound as Harry, inwardly preening with pride, used the silence to build momentum to the big finish. _Wait for it…_

'I vanished his trousers and knickers while he was waiting in the queue in front of Snape's desk.'

The whole locker room broke out into applause when he finished. Some of the older boys had taken to banging on the lockers and walls. Ron took that moment to jump up on the bench, triumphantly beaming as he applauded down at Harry, who was grinning a wickedly below him, sat down on the same stretch of oak.

'And everyone saw!' He shouted at the top of his lungs.

'That's it!' Dean shouted from the middle of the mesh of House Quidditch players. 'After practice, we're celebrating! All of us!'

'Bloody right we are!' Seamus seconded that notion.

'Oh yea!' It was Cormac McClaggen who punched his fist into the air. 'Room of Requirement! Midnight! Firewhisky! Be there!'

All the Seventh year boys began to rally around their new cause. As one, the whole team, led by Ron, hoisted Harry up on their shoulders and led their Captain out onto the pitch for the beginning of practice.

Despite the inward nagging in the back of his mind that Hermione would not approve of him letting on her true implications in the whole charade, Harry couldn't help but be taken in by the triumphant swell within him. Today was a proud day for Gryffindor House.


End file.
